Star Wars The Twelve Knights Chronicles Book II
by CronoT80
Summary: Continuation of the Star Wars Legends Timeline
1. Chapter One

Star Wars: The Twelve Knights Chronicles Book II

Eight weeks have passed since the events on Juuntall. Jedi Knight Kyle Raeger continues his search for any leads to the location of Abeloth, The Ones, or the Mortis Monolith. Charged with this duty by Grand Master Luke Skywalker, Jedi Raeger continues in his quest. However, doubts have begun to creep into his mind.

Halfway across the galaxy, other events are slowly beginning to turn into motion. The discoveries made by Talon Karrde have borne fruit. Jaina, the newest Master of the Jedi Council, receives an unexpected communication from Boba Fett. The contents of the message are so explosive, they could shake the Galactic Alliance Government to its knees.

However, the death of Darth Naito has not gone unnoticed. A malevolent group, hidden for years, is being forced to the surface. Their plans interrupted, their only recourse is to accelerate their objectives. Their next step is to secure the weapon needed to subjugate the rest of the galaxy, and kill everyone who resists…

Chapter One

Jedi Knight Kyle Raeger's eyes snapped open. A sense of disorientation and panic caused him to look around. Outside the canopy of his X-Wing was the solitude of deep space. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he realized it has happened again.

A trilling sound emitting from a speaker on the control panel of his starfighter, along with text appearing on the monitor next to it. Kyle looked behind him, to see his R2 Unit, Switch, secured in the astromech socket. The droid had been with him for over a decade, from his first mission as a Jedi Apprentice, to his most recent expedition. Both, ironically, had occurred in the same place, on the same planet.

"No, Switch, I'm fine," Kyle said, after reading the text on the monitor. "I just had that same dream again."

Switch's trilling changed from an interrogative to a more concerned tone.

"Yeah," Kyle replied, "I'm kind of worried, too."

A day or two after leaving the Errant Venture behind, Kyle had jumped awake in his X-Wing's cockpit. He hadn't remembered falling asleep, which in and of itself didn't worry him at the time. The dream had been about his encounter with Collette Kurashi, whom he had recently learned was a Sith Lord by the name of Darth Naito. In the dream, he had been standing over Darth Naito, right after the Dark Side black hole created by the destruction of her jewel had sucked away all of her life essence, leaving her an empty husk.

The first time the dream occurred, Kyle wrote it off as stress and tried to put it behind him. The second time the dream came, almost a week later, the imagery and sensations were even more intense. After he had awoken from the dream, he had meditated for over an hour, to try to cleanse himself of the negative emotions he had felt soaked in. Now, after having lost count of how many times the dream had come, no amount of meditation seemed to help.

"I don't know," Kyle said, rubbing his face repeatedly. "The mission Grand Master Skywalker gave me is very important. Plus, there are plenty of other Jedi Knights out there searching right now, too. Maybe I should head back to GA Territory, to get checked out."

Switch replied with a short series of trills, as a number of systems appeared on the monitor. Kyle immediately discounted Coruscant, since it would take him back to the center of the galaxy. Even though it had the best medical facilities, including Jedi healers, the amount of time it would take him to get back to the Outer Rim would essentially negate the advantage. Commenor was a possible choice, but there were reports of emerging Anti-Jedi sentiment resulting from the Second Galactic Civil War that might make the rest he needed hard to come by. Finally, near the bottom of the list, an unexpected entry caught his eye.

"Switch," Kyle said, tapping his monitor, "tell me more about Thyferra."

Switch replied with a confident trill, as biographical and topographical data began to replace the list of star systems. While Kyle knew that Thyferra was the planet where bacta was made, like most beings in the galaxy, that's where his knowledge stopped. He also knew a little about the planet's history, when it had been temporarily ruled by a high ranking Imperial after the death of Emperor Palpatine. It was the final piece of information that felt like the Force was drawing him to it.

"Hold on, Switch," Kyle said quickly. "Back it up a bit."

Switch scrolled backwards a little, and Kyle tapped his gloved finger on the monitor again.

"Bring up all the data you have on the Bacta War," Kyle requested.

He read through the data quickly, knowing the usual speed Switch used would leave him enough time to read the pertinent parts. Approximately three years after the destruction of the Second Death Star and the death of Emperor Palpatine, Rogue Squadron had participated in the conquest of Coruscant. The New Republic discovered, just in time, that the former head of Imperial Intelligence, Ysanne Isard, had enlisted an Imperial Officer, General Evir Derricote, to create a bioweapon that would kill off almost all the non-human species residing on the planet. Ysanne Isard then orchestrated a coup d'etat on Thyferra, in an attempt to bankrupt the New Republic as they purchased more and more bacta to cure the Krytos Virus.

While the New Republic had secretly begun experimenting themselves with an alternative, progress had been slow. A Vratix, a member of the insectoid species that created bacta, was smuggled onto the recently conquered planet of Borleias to prevent Isard from discovering the New Republic's plans. As a verachan, or master blender, the Vratix, Qlaern Hirf, had created the alternative cure, rylca. While it had been able to slow the progression of the bioweapon, bacta was needed to stamp it out for good.

Wedge Antilles, along with the rest of the celebrated X-Wing starfighter group Rogue Squadron, had pushed for the New Republic to take the fight directly to Isard. Kyle tapped on the names of the squadron members, and got a quick summary of their actions and involvement at the time. He was unsurprised that the bulk of the material was dedicated to Wedge Antilles, since he had been the leader of the temporary splinter group. He was surprised to see Tycho Celchu, Iella Wessiri, and a few others listed.

Near the end, he saw the names of his former Master and his Master's wife. Corran Horn, along with Mirax Terrik, had participated in several battles during the short-lived Bacta War. It also listed Booster Terrik's contribution, along with Talon Karrde's, and mentioned how Booster had tricked an Imperial Captain into surrendering the Imperial Star Destroyer Virulence over to him, which he had renamed the Errant Venture. Talon Karrde, for his part, had been a minor player in the conflict, but had been essential in resolving the dispute between the New Republic and Booster Terrik over the ownership of the Virulence.

After the expulsion of the Imperial leaning Xucphra corporation, the Vratix, along with their allies in the Zaltin corporation, had petitioned to join the New Republic. They had remained a member state throughout the Yuuzhan Vong war, and the Second Galactic Civil War. The native species' culture was deeply rooted in healing, and the family that still ran the Zaltin corporation had maintained good relations with them. Master Horn had even once told him that once you got past the oppressive humidity, it wasn't really that bad a place for some downtime.

"Not bad, Switch," Kyle finally said. "Sounds like we've got a winner."

Switch, clearly satisfied with himself, issued a series of celebratory trills. Kyle pulled up the astronavigation charts maintained by the Jedi Order, started plotting his course, and jumped to lightspeed. His position relative to the planet placed him on the good side of Yag'Dhul, which, due to its several large moons that rotated in a retrograde orbit to the planet, made navigation near it somewhat difficult. If he had been approaching Thyferra from the other direction, it would have required several extra hyperspace jumps.

While he technically wasn't on any time table, the extra distance traveled would have only allowed more chances for the dream to happen again. The Jedi Order had warned him to be mindful of his emotions. Kyle wasn't afraid of the dreams, but they were obviously happening for a reason. If he had been touched; or worse, tainted, by the Dark Side in his most recent battle with Darth Naito, he needed to know, before it started to possibly affect him.

"Switch," Kyle said, turning his head to look directly at his astromech partner, "I'm going to use the Jedi hibernation technique. You know how to wake me when it's time."

Switch issued a slightly nervous sounding trill, then watched from his position as Kyle settled down to enter the coma-like state that allowed him to minimize the amount of life support used. Over the next several days, as his human counterpart calculated time, Switch observed the elegant blue-white corona of hyperspace rotate around them. He constantly monitored Kyle's life form readings through his consumption of oxygen and other gases, as well as a sensor cluster built into the pilot's seat. Switch kept his own attention occupied by counting down the time remaining until he needed to send the rhythmic pulse through the cockpit speakers that would alert Kyle to come back out of his self-induced coma.

Finally, on their fifth day in hyperspace, Switch sent the signal to awaken Kyle. The Jedi Knight's life signs started to fluctuate, as they always did when he began pulling himself out of his comatose state. The sudden surge in the consumption of oxygen caused the air scrubbers to increase production. Switch waited as Kyle coughed and then opened his eyes. He then greeted the Jedi Knight with a cheerful trill as he regained his bearings.

"Thanks, buddy," Kyle said, reaching for the hyperspace controls. "I'll take it from here."

While Kyle knew about Grand Master Skywalker's knack for knowing his position in hyperspace relative to real space, it was a skill he had yet to master. Consequently, he relied on Switch to notify him when to disengage the hyperspace engines. A tone from the speakers alerted him, and Kyle pulled back the throttle. The X-Wing reappeared in real space within visible distance of the planet of Thyferra, but safely outside its gravity well.

"There it is, Switch," Kyle said, facing backwards again. "Looks pretty from here. Here's hoping the healing abilities of the Vratix wasn't exaggerated."

Switch put up a message on the monitor about a second before the cockpit speaker growled to life.

"Unidentified X-Wing Starfighter," the male voice said with just the right combination of professionalism and aggression, "this is Thyferra ATC. Identify yourself and the nature of your business."

"Here goes nothing," Kyle said, activating his general communications frequency. "This is Jedi Knight Kyle Raeger, on special assignment from the Jedi Order. I'm here for some down time, and to seek medical evaluation and treatment."

"We don't have you on file, Jedi Raeger," Thyferra ATC responded. "Anyone that can vouch for you?"

"I was apprenticed under Jedi Master Corran Horn," Kyle replied. "Is that good enough?"

"Sorry," Thyferra ATC said. "That's not going to be-"

"Give him a berth and landing coordinates," a well cultured male voice said suddenly. "I will vouch for him."

"Yes, sir," Thyferra ATC replied, with a nearly audible gulp. "Jedi Raeger, please stand by for landing instructions."

Kyle received a data package on his monitor. Glancing at it, the coordinates he saw put it in the middle of what appeared to be a large private estate. Taking a closer look, he realized it was probably a government facility, possibly even the regional governor's offices. Whoever had interrupted his conversation with Thyferra ATC was obviously someone important.

"What do you think that was all about," Kyle asked.

Switch replied with an uncertain trill, but indicated that the landing coordinates were valid.

"Keep our sensors scanning, Switch," Kyle said with a soft sigh. "I know what Grand Master Skywalker says about luck. Even though it's been a few decades, Master Horn was instrumental in helping the Vratix gain their freedom. While that means he's probably venerated as a hero here, he's just as likely to have some pretty bitter enemies, too."

Switch, through his trills, did his best imitation of a frustrated sigh, and even Kyle had to admit his assessment of their situation was pretty spot on.

Immediately after popping the seal on the canopy of his X-Wing Starfighter, Kyle knew that Master Horn hadn't been exaggerating. The cool, controlled atmosphere his cockpit maintained was instantly replaced by the hot, humid air of the spaceport facilities. Growing up on the planet of Chandrila, Kyle was no stranger rain and humidity, but the winds coming off the Silver Sea kept it to a tolerable level. There was so much moisture in the air, he was honestly worried about Switch rusting or shorting out.

Not needing the ladder used by most pilots, Kyle instead used his Force-enhanced reflexes to jump down from his cockpit. Upon landing on the compacted permacrete of the tarmac, he looked around for the immigration agent that would usually be present to both greet him and politely interrogate him. After waiting for nearly five minutes, Kyle shrugged, used the Force to levitate Switch out of the astromech slot of his X-Wing, and then gently lowered him to the ground. Glancing at a map with instructions printed in several languages, Kyle made his way to the nearest exit, followed closely by Switch.

He made it nearly three meters down the hallway before he was intercepted by a protocol droid.

"Excuse me," the droid said in an electronic but otherwise pleasant female voice, "would you happen to be the esteemed Jedi Knight, Kyle Raeger?"

"Well, I don't know about the 'esteemed' part," Kyle replied, "but the rest is accurate."

"Excellent," the droid said eagerly. "My master will be most pleased that I arrived in time to properly greet you. I am C-7PO, but you can call me Cathy."

"Cathy," Kyle replied. "Why Cathy?"

"Your confusion is understandable," Cathy responded amusingly. "It also happens quite frequently. It seems the voiceprint used for my vocal modulator was taken from a famous musical artist, who was popular during the waning days of the Old Republic. If you'll follow me, please."

"You don't find that a little creepy," Kyle asked as he walked beside the protocol droid. "I mean, you're talking to me with the voice of a dead woman."

"Some people have expressed that sentiment before," Cathy admitted, tilting her head to the side. "Perhaps I should not have said anything in the first place."

"You didn't choose to have that voice, Cathy." Kyle said. "The only choice you have now is how well you use it. You might as well put it to good use."

"Thank you, Jedi Raeger," Cathy replied gently, "for expressing faith in me and my abilities."

"I've experienced similar circumstances," Kyle said, smiling. "I didn't choose to be born as a Force Sensitive, but I do have a responsibility in how I use it."

"I must admit," Cathy, said, "it's refreshing to find a being who doesn't recoil at the thought of associating with me after finding out the details of my programming."

"Force users such as Jedi tend to have a different perspective," Kyle replied. "We often interact with Jedi who have become one with the Force, sometimes even centuries after they've died."

"You're referring to the phenomenon known as Force Ghosts," Cathy said. "While I have heard of them, I have never experienced it for myself."

"It's nowhere near as common as most beings think," Kyle said with an amused smile. "For someone to have an interaction with a Force Ghost, not only does the departed Jedi need to have a reason to speak with the Jedi they're trying to contact, but the will of the Force itself has to allow it to occur."

"So desire has nothing to do with it," Cathy asked plainly.

"It depends on the kind of desire you're talking about," Kyle replied. "If the Jedi's desire is to follow the will of the Force, such as protecting the innocent and defending the weak against tyranny, then it would probably be allowed to occur. But if the Jedi desires it out of personal need to only help themselves, that kind of longing can begin to manifest itself as greed, which can easily corrupt a Jedi to the Dark Side of the Force."

"Thank you for enlightening me, Jedi Raeger," Cathy said pleasantly. "I feel I've come a little closer to understanding the Force a little better, thanks to you."

"Glad to be of help, Cathy," Kyle said, as they approached a door near the end of the hallway. "Just keep in mind, Grand Master Skywalker is in his sixties, and he's still learning new things about the Force. Be patient. If the Force has a destiny in mind for you, it'll find you, whether you like it or not."

"Thank you again, Jedi Raeger," Cathy replied, then assumed a more professional tone. "My master is waiting for you inside."

"Thank you, Cathy," Kyle said with a smile. "Maybe I'll see you again when I head out."

Cathy placed her hand on a droid socket built into the wall next to the door, and Kyle heard the sound of an electronic lock disengaging. The door to the office opened smoothly, as Kyle and Switch made their way in. Switch issued a pleasant series of trills, which was his way of thanking Cathy for her effort. As the outer door closed, the inner door to the main office opened. A man in his middle years was sitting at the desk. While he had an aristocratic bearing, Kyle didn't sense any of the arrogance or self-importance that often came with it.

"Jedi Knight Kyle Raeger, reporting as requested," Kyle said, extending his hand.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Jedi Raeger," he said, shaking the offered hand. "So, I'm lead to understand that you were Jedi Master Corran Horn's apprentice, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Kyle replied openly.

"Corran and I had quite the rivalry when we were younger," the man behind the desk replied. "I knew he would go far, but not even I thought he would become an accomplished Jedi Master."

"He was a great teacher, too," Kyle said.

"Ah yes," the man said. "Corran often taught best by leading; a skill I'm sure the Jedi made excellent use of. But I'm neglecting my manners, as I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Bror Jace. I'm the current head of the Zaltin Corporate group, and defacto leader of the human populace of Thyferra."

Kyle suppressed the urge to react impolitely. While not as famous or instrumental as Wedge Antilles or Corran Horn in the liberation of Thyferra during the Bacta War a few years after the destruction of the Second Death Star, Bror Jace was still an important person in the sphere of influence surrounding Thyferra. While Master Horn had always spoken highly of him, Kyle was getting his own opportunity to see for himself why. Any help he could secure from him would likely prove invaluable.

"Thank you for smoothing things over for me with Thyferra ATC," Kyle said graciously. "I assume you get a lot of odd traffic and passersby."

"Think nothing of it," Bror said, waving his hand dismissively. "In truth, you may prove of more help to me than you probably realize."

"How's that," Kyle asked, guarded.

"I saw on your temporary visa application that you're here for rest, medical evaluation, and possible medical treatment," Bror stated. "Is that correct?"

"Yes," Kyle replied.

"Excellent," Bror said. "We should be able to assist each other, then. We've been having some issues with our bacta storage and treatment facilities."

"What kind of issues," Kyle asked, suspiciously.

"Several large containers of bacta have been found," Bror replied, "after seemingly being misplaced for several days. Given the size of our operations, that sort of thing isn't all that unusual. However, one of our Verachen mentioned that something about the taste of one of the bacta containers seemed off. So, I had it tested."

"What did you find," Kyle asked, his danger sense in the Force suddenly on edge.

"The bacta in the container had been exposed to a mutagen," Bror said in hushed tones. "While it would have still been useful as a healing solution, long term use of it would have resulted in wild mutations, particularly in the areas of cognitive abilities. Our analysis indicated that while a small percentage of beings would have possibly gained enhanced abilities, most would have been reduced to unthinking beasts."

"I can see why you're so interested in finding out what happened," Kyle replied. "Without a safe supply of bacta, millions, possibly billions of beings could die."

"That, Jedi Raeger," Bror said, "is the least of our concerns right now."

"How is that not your primary concern," Kyle asked incredulously.

"Someone created this mutagen," Bror said with barely restrained fury. "That means they plan on using it. The least it would do is ruin our business. But what if their true end goal is to reduce millions of beings into mindless slaves?"

"I think I'm beginning to see the scope of the problem," Kyle said, as the Force turned deathly cold around him.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"Yeah, yeah, I'm awake," Jaina Solo said to the empty darkness around her. "You can stop now."

The incessant sound of her alarm continued to wail from across the room, despite her protests. Jaina looked over, and saw once again with a slightly heavy heart that her husband, Jagged Fel, still wasn't back next to her. Jag, being the more sensible of them, had kept the alarm on his side of their bed. He was as dutiful about his alarm as he was everything else, to the point where he had often silenced it and risen from bed before she even had a chance to notice his absence.

He was due for release from the medical center within the next day or so, but the preceding six weeks had been a nearly heart-wrenching experience for her. After being treated for minor electrical burns during their escape from Juuntall two months prior, it was discovered that the damage to his nervous system had put him at risk for a previously unknown aneurysm. While the surgery required to fix it was relatively minor, it had required multiple treatments, which resulted in his extended stay. Jaina was looking forward to bringing him home with an eagerness that was almost unbecoming of a Jedi Master.

While Uncle Luke, more properly known to the majority of the Jedi Order as Grand Master Luke Skywalker, had somewhat loosened the demands on Jedi being forbidden to form attachments, he still reminded every youngling of their dangers. It had ultimately been Anakin Skywalker's requirement to hide his love for Padmé that had driven him to the Dark Side, or so Uncle Luke said. But, it had also been his love for his son that had redeemed him. Uncle Luke had finally decided that in order to be able to fully embrace the Light Side of the Force, a Jedi had to be allowed to experience what Anakin Skywalker had been denied, and that cutting oneself off from being able to love was the quickest path to corruption.

Jaina reached out with the Force and shut off the alarm. She hoped that Jag didn't mind that she had to replace their old one. The second day after waking up alone to its shrill sound, she had reached out in the Force in a semi-conscious state and had crushed it from the inside. Looking at it after realizing what she had done had only added to her misery at the time. After purchasing a new one, she had moved it across their bedroom in an attempt to avoid repeating her mistake, which had so far been successful.

After visiting the refresher and getting dressed in her Jedi robes, Jaina attended to the regular duties that had come with her elevation to the rank of Jedi Master. While arguably the most junior member of the Council by far, her experience in the matters of combat, for better or worse, made her input all the more essential now. Even though little had been heard from the Lost Tribe, as the recently discovered group of Sith called themselves, her recent battle and near defeat on Juuntall by an unknown Sith Lord showed exactly why they had to remain vigilant. After multiple polite inquiries from Jedi Master Kyle Katarn, backed by a not too subtle conversation with Uncle Luke, Jaina has been obliged to take a more active role in the more martial aspects of the youngling and apprentice training regimens.

Her first instinct had been to take the training back to basics, but after some reflection, Jaina passed on that idea. She wasn't being asked to take over the Jedi Academy, just to create some new training in the areas of lightsaber and other hand-to-hand combat. She quickly realized that it had been her training under Boba Fett, and later her techniques in the battles in the Jedi Temple with the Lost Tribe on Coruscant that had drawn the request. She had thought about reaching out to Fett again after her epiphany, but had initially decided against it.

Instead, Jaina had spent the past few weeks trying to recall not only the physical, but also the mental feel of the training that Fett, along with his defacto second in command, Goran Beviin, had put her through. The most important aspect of the training was in being able to harness the raw power and emotion that the Mandalorians used, while avoiding the more atavistic nature of the Dark Side that often came with it. After exhausting herself in meditation and form drills for hours, an inescapable truth had finally come to her. That truth, as Uncle Luke often quoted, depended greatly on the point of view.

When Jaina had accepted her fate to be trained under Boba Fett, she had sacrificed and risked only herself, knowing that at any moment, the entirety of Fett's forces could and likely would have overwhelmed her. Despite that, she had willingly surrendered herself. Her twin brother Jacen, in his desire to bring peace and stability to the galaxy, had instead sacrificed everything else but himself. He justified one barbaric cruelty after another, until there had been nothing left of Jacen, and Darth Cadeus had taken his place.

While Jaina had set out with the goal of stopping Cadeus, up to and including being responsible for his death, she had done so without malice. She knew that course of action would only result in pain and loss for her, and accepted it. As the Sword of the Jedi, as Uncle Luke had proclaimed her, her tragedy has protected countless billions who would have suffered under Darth Cadeus' reign. That willingness to sacrifice only herself ultimately saved her from the same fate of her twin brother. Her last reason for delay gone, she activated her comm terminal and entered the frequency Talon Karrde had previously given here.

"I was wondering when you'd get around to calling again," Boba Fett said as soon as the transmission connected. "Whatever it is you want, I don't care. I've got my own problems to deal with right now."

"Maybe I can help," Jaina replied quickly.

"I doubt it," Fett said vehemently. "The only thing Jedi have ever brought me was trouble, from the day I was born."

Jaina decided that reminding Fett he was a clone, and therefore had never technically been born, was probably a good thing to avoid at the moment, and tried another tack.

"I've learned a few things about how Mandalorians deal with their problems," Jaina said as diplomatically as possible. "You sure you couldn't use some extra muscle around?"

"The last thing I need right now is more Jedi to deal with," Fett said gruffly.

"Wait, more Jedi," Jaina asked, confused. "I thought Jedi and Mandalorians tended to avoid each other whenever possible. Besides, I thought I was the only one who had worked up the nerve to come to you, unbidden."

"Good to see you got some of your sense from your mother," Fett replied sarcastically, "instead of taking completely after the space bum."

"Meaning," Jaina asked, ignoring the derogatory description of her father.

"You're right," Fett said finally. "These Jedi didn't come to me willingly. I had them dumped on me."

"Okay," Jaina said, tired of their verbal sparring, "now you've completely lost me."

"I'm only bringing it up," Fett said hesitantly, "because Kad'ika made me promise. Gotab's gone."

"When you say gone," Jaina said sadly, "I assume you're not talking about him leaving Mandalore."

"No," Fett replied curtly. "He became one with the Force, or joined the Manda, or whatever spirituality he eventually settled on."

Jaina sighed as she recalled her time on Mandalore with Gotab and Venku. Her initial reaction at realizing that she had found a Jedi who had survived Order 66 and Palpatine's purge had been shocking enough. To then have him turn a blaster on her and out her to all of Keldabe moments after her arrival didn't exactly paint him in the best light for her. Fortunately, events began moving in a way that let her get beyond his decades long animus of the Jedi Order.

Upon learning that his ex-wife was still alive, Boba Fett had tracked her down with the kind of single-minded obsession that normally would have frightened Jaina. While his granddaughter Mirta Gev had been pretty riled up about it as well, Jaina had seen Fett the closest possible thing to guilt he had still been capable of feeling. Having his daughter and granddaughter try to kill him must have had as deep an effect as her mother, Princess Leia, had said. Having both grandfather and granddaughter learn at the same time that her brother Jacen had killed Ailyn Vel, Fett's daughter, in interrogation, must have finally broken loose something inside the man.

Hoping for at least an amicable reunion with his ex-wife, Fett had again been disappointed. In the chaotic times following the establishment of the Emperor's New Order but before her Uncle Luke had destroyed the first Death Star, Sintas Vel had attempted to collect a bounty on a crime lord. Instead, she had been captured, encased in carbonite, and forgotten. She had remained in that state for approximately three decades until Fett had purchased her container as part of the estate sale of the crime lord that had captured her. Jaina still suspected that Fett had wanted to kill the crime lord himself.

In his mid-seventies by then, Fett had arranged to get Sintas treatment. Frozen in her mid-thirties, Sintas had still been in the prime of her life, but had been in the full effects of carbonite sickness. Blind, barely coherent, and suffering from near total amnesia, Sintas had thrashed awake violently. Faced with the renewed depth of his loss, Fett had left the room and focused his attention on the galaxy devolving into war around him yet again. Sensing the Force moving through the series of events, Jaina sought out Gotab after realizing that he had one of the rarest gifts of the Force, the ability to heal others.

Convinced by Jaina and his own sense of morals; a blending of the Jedi Code and Mandalorian pragmatism, Gotab had agreed to undertake the task of healing Sintas Vel. After multiple treatments, Sintas has regained her sight, along with her memories. After one of the more gruelling healing sessions, Jaina had accepted an invitation to talk with Gotab. She had poured out all her doubts and fears to the man, despite never knowing him. Her greatest fear was what would happen to her if and when she finally killed her brother.

Recognizing the conflict she was in, Gotab had told her about a friend of his who had kept strills, raising them as domesticated hunting partners. The strill had been his friend's lifelong companion, and loyal to a fault. Despite that, it had started randomly attacking Gotab, his friend, and anyone who came near. Decades of training had failed without reason. Finally, his friend had sought medical treatment for his companion.

By then, it had been too late. An aggressive and malignant tumor had formed in the strill's brain, putting it in constant pain and fear. Realizing that any attempt to continue treatment would only prolong its suffering, his friend had been forced to euthanize his companion. While it had wrecked his friend emotionally, it would have been the purest form of evil to force the animal to continue living in that condition. Jaina had accepted the truth that Gotab forced her to confront, and despite killing her brother, she had accepted the necessity of it, despite the pain it had brought her.

"How's Venku taking it," Jaina finally asked.

"Like any proper Mandalorian would," Fett said. "He added a piece of his armor to his kit, gave him a proper burial, and moved on."

"Then where do these Jedi come in," Jaina asked as politely as possible. "Gotab told me that he deliberately avoided having any children with his wife, to avoid producing any Force Sensitive Mandalorian offspring."

"How is it that Skywalker likes to put it," Fett said sarcastically. "A certain point of view? Gotab himself didn't father any children directly, but it seems the circumstances of Kad'ika's birth wasn't as unique as we were all lead to believe."

"Meaning," Jaina asked as diplomatically as her strained patience allowed.

"When Gotab and several of the deserters of the Grand Army of the Republic sought refuge on Mandalore," Fett said irritably, "he wasn't the only Force Sensitive. Kad'ika's mother, as well as a Jedi Padawan was with them. Kad'ika's mother was killed shortly after he was born. The Jedi Padawan, whose given name was apparently forgotten years ago, didn't have much ability in her use of the Force. Despite that, she developed a reputation as a fierce warrior."

Jaina was immediately reminded of Tyria Sarkin. The last in a line of paramilitary commandos from a devastated planet, Tyria had joined Wedge Antilles' Wraith Squadron after initially being turned down by her Uncle Luke for Jedi training. Later, after working out her lingering emotional issues, she had again petitioned and successfully joined the Jedi Order. While her weaker Force abilities had essentially capped her at the rank of Jedi Knight, her battlefield experience had earned her the level of respect more often attributed to the senior Jedi Masters of the Order.

"Gotab must have thought at the time," Fett continued, "that her weaker abilities in the Force were unlikely to be able to be passed down, and didn't forbid her to have children as he did. She settled down with a member of the Skirata Clan and had a few sons. They were all as Force blind as gundarks, so no one bothered to keep in check with them."

"I take it things have changed," Jaina said dryly.

"Always knew you were sharp, Solo," Fett said with a small amount of respect. "Two of her grandchildren, a boy and a girl, have started exhibiting abilities in the Force; and I mean strong abilities."

"How old are they," Jaina asked, concerned.

"The girl's eleven," Fett replied. "The boy is coming up on thirteen, soon."

Jaina grimaced silently as the possibilities ran through her head. Luke Skywalker, despite being an adult before starting his training, had become the greatest Jedi Master in history. On the flipside, her grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, has begun his training around the same age that the two children were, now. Raised first as a slave on Tatooine, and later hailed as the Chosen One during the Clone Wars, Anakin's upbringing had impacted his sense of right and wrong to the point where Darth Sidious had been able to manipulate him into turning against the Jedi and helping overthrow the Old Republic.

"Yeah," Fett finally said, breaking the silence. "I thought that might get your attention."

"So what are you planning on doing," Jaina asked lightly. "Are you going to send them to the Jedi Academy on Ossus?"

"How about I send you a gift wrapped thermal detonator with an activated dead man switch," Fett replied coldly.

"Just checking," Jaina said with a sigh.

"Good," Fett said. "Now that you've got that idea out of your system, we can move on to more productive matters."

"What does the grandmother think about all this," Jaina asked.

"The Jedi Padawan," Fett said, "who apparently went by and kept the name Scout after she married, died about five years ago."

"So how did anyone figure out they were Force Sensitive," Jaina asked.

"Gotab and Kad'ika kept a lot of things to themselves," Fett replied. "Despite that, even Mandalorians know enough about the Force when they see someone move something with their mind, or know things they shouldn't. Also, one of the Padawan Scout's strongest abilities in the Force was reportedly in the area of precognition. The boy, and especially the girl, have shown a great aptitude in the areas of hand-to-hand combat. Their parents have said they seem to know what's going to happen before it even happens."

"Have you met them yet," Jaina asked.

"No," Fett replied simply. "I was trying to wait until Kad'ika returned from his current bounty, but I just heard back from him. He's going to be out of the Mandalore system for at least another month, if not longer."

"What about me," Jaina suddenly blurted out, surprising even herself.

"What makes you think I'll let Jedi anywhere near those kids," Fett asked a little too lightly.

"You know just as well as I do, Fett," Jaina replied, "how dangerous untrained Force users can be."

"I also know how the Jedi consider the Force their exclusive territory," Fett said gruffly.

"That's not true," Jaina said simply, "and you know it. Uncle Luke has never interfered with any Force user, as long as they don't use their abilities destructively."

"Destructive," Fett said, "based on his point of view."

"You have a point to make, Fett," Jaina asked. "Just go ahead and make it."

"Mandalore has a long memory," Fett replied. "We've fought Jedi, and we've fought Sith. While the Sith tend to cause more destruction in the short term, the Jedi have caused just as much; only they do it over a longer period of time."

Jaina took a breath before trying to refute what Fett had said, then stopped. She didn't so much feel a chill, as she felt the Force warning her and trying to guide her down a different path. Of all three of her siblings, she had always been the most headstrong. While it had served her needs from time to time, it had more often bought her more trouble than she wanted.

"Okay," Jaina said finally.

"Okay, what," Fett asked.

"You're the Mandalore," Jaina replied. "These kids are Mandalorians. Their grandmother, Scout, didn't choose to be a Jedi. But, she chose to remain with Gotab, obviously for the rest of her life. She may not have even considered herself a Jedi anymore. Gotab didn't, from what he told me. These are her grandchildren. If I don't even stop to consider what she may have wanted, I'm no better than the Jedi Order from the Old Republic, who took children from their families, whether they wanted them to go or not."

"It's nice to see I'm still as good as I thought," Fett said with just a hint of humor.

"Okay," Jaina replied with a sigh, "now you've completely lost me."

"You've seen how we live," Fett said. "You know for us that family is everything. My father told me that the Jedi of the Old Republic were too strong to take down from the outside, but that based on how they were going, they would inevitably tear themselves apart from the inside. It's a shame he never lived to see himself proven right."

Jaina grimaced silently at Fett's glib description of how her grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, had almost single handedly led to the near total destruction of the Jedi, but otherwise didn't respond.

"The smartest thing your uncle ever did was remove that idiotic rule about not having families," Fett said with a good amount of respect. "When a child is raised without a real parental figure, they never develop the ability to form stable relationships. They eventually break on the inside, often with catastrophic results."

"That theory has been floated multiple times about my brother," Jaina said neutrally.

"Jacen Solo's problem was that he had all that power that men crave," Fett said almost gently, "but none of the emotional stability that he needed to wield it. Everything became about himself, either how things affected him, or his need to control it. He started out with the goal of wanting to protect others, but ended up with an obsessive need to dominate, instead. He wasn't as destructive as Palpatine was, but that's probably because you took him out first."

"Well," Jaina said with the right amount of sarcasm, "it was the Mandalorian thing to do, right?"

Jaina waited for Fett to respond. The silence stretched so thin, she started to wonder if he had disconnected. Looking down at the communications console, she saw the link was still active. Jaina took a deep breath, resisting the urge to reach out and probe Fett's mood in the Force.

"Fett," Jaina asked, "are you still there?"

"Go take care of your husband," Fett finally said. "I might reach back out to you."

This time, Jaina did see the link disconnect. It had been a tense conversation, so she decided to use the time she had remaining to meditate on the events that had occurred. Her worries regarding how to approach her training regimen had now taken on a whole new level. Both Jaina and Boba Fett knew that with Gotab and Scout gone, she was his best chance to keep the two Force Sensitive younglings from eventually becoming as dangerous as randomly misfiring blasters.

Bringing herself out of her meditative state, Jaina saw she had ten minutes before she needed to leave the apartment she and her husband shared. Using the remaining time to quickly change out of her sweaty Jedi robes and into a clean set, Jaina gave herself a cursory glance in the mirror. While she had never aspired to beauty, Jag had mentioned her appearance the last time she had visited him. Judging her looks satisfactory for her position as a Jedi Master, she grabbed her lightsaber and turned off the lights as she walked out the door.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Kyle looked down at the datapads he had strewn around his desk. Each one contained a mass of notes and other observations from the past week. In between the bacta baths and other therapy sessions he was attending, which had slowly begun to uncloud his troubled mind, he had posed as a bacta tank service tech, a skiff maintenance worker, and a clerical secretary for a series of middle management staff. While he had apparently attracted the eye of a fellow petite and perky service tech, his search for answers was no closer than he was when started.

"How's it going today, Jahnaya," Kyle asked, as the other service tech arrived for her shift.

"Fine," Jahnaya replied. "Tank number two was a little off pressure at the end of my shift last night, but it looks like you took care of that."

"Yep," Kyle said. "Thanks for that memo, by the way. You saved me an hour's worth of effort trying to find it. Got it all locked down twenty minutes into my shift."

"Good to know someone's paying attention," Jahnaya said, sighing. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just talking to myself in those memos."

"I don't see what's so hard about it," Kyle replied as he started digging through his locker and continued speaking over his shoulder. "All you need to be able to do is read some instructions in a manual."

Kyle turned back around to find Jahnaya pointing a blaster at him. Immediately, his senses, both physical and through the Force, accelerated into light speed. Reaching out carefully, he tried to get a sense of her through the Force. While most beings holding a blaster in a hostile manner on him would be nervous or at least excited, Jahnaya was almost in a meditative state. Kyle quickly discounted any ideas of trying to disarm her normally.

"It's interesting that you put it that way," Jahnaya finally said. "I did some checking. Any knuckle dragging mechanic with half a brain can do this job. So, what are you doing here? You're obviously more skilled than you let on."

"Would you believe I have a lot of gambling debts," Kyle asked as he raised his hands.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Jahnaya replied. "Black Sun is famous for their 'Just do this for us and we'll forgive all your debts' setup."

Kyle felt Jahnaya's sense in the Force ease up a bit, so he started preparing himself to reach out and rip the blaster out of her hand.

"Don't," Jahnaya immediately said.

"What," Kyle asked as innocently as he could.

"Whatever it is you're planning," Jahnaya countered. "I've had this blaster custom modified. It's set to stun, but I can switch it to burn without removing my finger from the trigger."

"So what do we do now," Kyle asked.

"Now," Jahnaya said with a smirk, "I call security and wait until they escort you to a holding cell."

"Oh," Kyle replied curtly. "Well, at least I'm still getting paid. Union rules, you know."

Kyle stared at the ceiling, once again counting the seams in the material. He'd gotten up to forty-seven the last time, before a sneeze had distracted him. Unlike the rest of the planet, with it's high humidity and damp atmosphere, the holding cell he was in was completely climate controlled. Five minutes after being shoved in, his sinuses had dried out, hence the sneezing.

Giving up on the fruitless endeavor, he looked over to where Jahnaya was sitting at a desk. She was carefully pouring over his datapads, while making notes on one of her own. There were no chronos anywhere within his eyesight, for obvious reasons. Despite that, Kyle knew that at least four to six hours of time had gone by.

Despite the frequent comings and goings of other personnel in the security office, Jahnaya had never looked up from her task when the doors had opened or closed. That immediately told Kyle two things: Jahnaya was highly disciplined, which also spoke of dedicated training. It also indicated that she had supreme confidence in her position and authority in the present setting. Adding all that up, Kyle knew any attempt to use a Jedi Mind Trick on her was doomed to failure.

Under other circumstances, he'd be impressed. Instead, he did his best not to let his frustration overtake him. Kyle had initially considered using the time meditating, but decided against it. While he no longer had the issue of unconsciously levitating any time he meditated, ever since Luke Skywalker had brought the Jedi back to prominence, many more people were familiar with Jedi and their habits. As long as Jahnaya merely suspected him of something, he needed to keep his cover intact. This time, as the security doors parted and Bror Jace entered, Kyle breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"So," Jace said with a hint of a smile, "this is the one who's been trying to sabotage our facilities?"

"Yes, sir," Jahnaya replied smoothly. "I've found copious notes he's taken while attempting to circumvent our security."

"Indeed," Jace replied stoically. "Release him."

"What," Jahnaya said, surprised. "But why?"

"Release him," Jace said firmly, "then politely escort him to my office. I'll be waiting."

As the inner doors to his office parted, Jace watched from his desk as Kyle and his escort entered the room. Pleased that she had listened to him and not placed him in restraints, Jace nodded his approval to her. In return, the intelligence officer acknowledged but did otherwise respond. Kyle, for his part, mostly looked bored.

"Please sit," Jace said, "both of you."

"Will someone please tell me what's going on," Kyle with a hint of the frustration he was obviously suppressing.

"Yes," the intelligence officer added. "I'd like to get back to my assignment as quickly as possible."

"First," Jace said with a snicker, "I believe introductions are in order. Kyle, please meet Myri Antilles. By the way, Myri, Kyle here was the first apprentice trained by the husband of your namesake, Mirax."

Kyle looked over at Jahnaya, whom he now knew as Myri, instead. Multiple missing puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place. While not as famous as her parents Wedge and Iella Antilles, Myri was the daughter who took after her mother, one of the most infamous intelligence assets from the New Republic and Galactic Alliance. Given her background, he felt a little better about how thoroughly she had managed to fool him.

"Wait," Myri said, "you knew he was here, and that were both investigating the same bacta tampering incidents?"

"Yes," Jace replied.

"It never occurred to you to mention it to us," Myri asked stoically.

"Of course it did," Jace replied again. "But then another idea occurred to me. A double-blind investigation would most likely be more fruitful that one investigation alone."

"So she was already here before I even arrived," Kyle said, realizing.

"Yes," Jace replied curtly again. "However, I did do something else. I contacted your father, Myri; and your former master, Kyle. Both were amused to hear you were investigating the same thing. Your father asked me to send along his regards."

"Is that all," Myri asked coyly.

"No, in fact," Jace said. "Upon both of them being informed about what was going on, they placed bets on which of you would discover the other first. Congratulations, Myri. Your father just won fifty credits."

"Putting aside my father's well placed faith in me," Myri said, "does any of this have a point?"

"Indeed it does," Jace replied, opening a file folder and placing what appeared to be two identical sheets of flimsi in front of his guests. "While you're free to come to your own conclusions, based on the excellent research both of you have done, I've concluded that the tainted bacta containers in question were never originally on the planet in the first place."

"What do you mean," Kyle said, grabbing the sheet of flimsi and looking over it. "We have the records showing they were delivered on site and on time before they were discovered missing."

"Based on your combined investigation," Jace continued, "I've been able to determine that the manifest listing those containers was faked."

"Okay," Kyle said, sitting back, "start from the beginning."

"The ship's manifest is different from the load master's tally of their last port of call," Jace began. "The amount of fuel taken on does not equal the amount that should have been burned based on the tonnage of the goods they were supposed to carrying, and the maintenance underhaul done on the engines indicates at least one extra stop that was not included in their flight plan."

"All circumstantial," Kyle replied, falling back on the more law enforcement based training that Master Horn had taught him. "While it would be enough to justify further investigation, no magistrate is going to grant a search warrant based on that evidence alone."

"Agreed," Myri added, "the most this would get us is the authority to board their ship and search it for contraband or additional evidence of smuggling. But, as soon as they left port, your jurisdiction and justification ended."

"True," Jace replied, "at least, in the conventional sense."

Meaning," Kyle asked.

"The ship in question," Jace continued, "the Hawkbat's Envy, has its next scheduled stop listed as Yag'Dhul Station, or Yag Prime, as it's sometimes referred to."

"Still not following the course you're trying to plot," Kyle responded.

"Because of the station's proximity and history with Thyferra and the bacta trade," Jace said, "the Zaltin Corporation and the Vratix leadership thought it wise to maintain good relations with the Givin. Also, due to the Givin's more mathematical approach to politics, their thought processes are surprisingly similar to the Vratix's low level hive mind mentality."

"An interesting cultural lesson, to be sure," Myri replied dryly, "but is there a point we're trying to come to?"

"Ah, the famous Antilles wit," Jace said, chuckling. "The point, my lady, is that in matters involving the bacta trade, the Givin have been extraordinarily cooperative, as far as Thyferra's interests are concerned. I've already contacted the appropriate member of the Givin Body Calculus. They will see to it that the Hawkbat's Envy is sufficiently delayed in their departure to allow you to board it and conduct your search."

"Are we going to have the proper documents to perform this search," Kyle asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Unfortunately, no," Jace admitted. "While the Givin are willing to look the other way to investigate a ship that may have caused harm to a potential trading partner, their laws will not allow direct involvement without solid evidence."

"So, you take all the risk," Myri said angrily, "while the Givin get to hide behind bureaucratic red tape. Typical."

"It was either that," Jace said, shrugging, "or board them in open space using overwhelming firepower. That kind of Imperial style conduct would certainly put a chill on Thyferra's trade position."

"I may not be old enough to remember the Galactic Empire," Kyle admitted, "but I know enough about Darth Caedus and the Galactic Alliance Guard to want to avoid comparisons."

"Glad to hear we're all in agreement," Jace said, placing his hands flatly on his desk before standing up. "Both of you have provided invaluable help during this time."

"Always glad to be of service," Kyle said, shaking Jace's hand. "All things considered, my stay here was restful, and allowed me the time I needed to sort through most of the issues that initially brought me here."

"Same here," Myri said, also shaking Jace's hand. "I rather enjoyed this posting. It was a lot more fun than my typical assignments. Remind me later to tell you about the time I had to impersonate a protocol droid."

Kyle felt something like a sense of deja vu come over him, as if he was both seeing the future and remembering the past at the same time.

"Protocol droid, you say," Kyle finally said, after staring into space for what felt like hours. "Jace, what do Cathy's daily activities consist of?"

"Mostly clerical stuff," Jace replied. "She prepared these documents for me, in fact. Why do you ask?"

"Could you make do without her for a few days," Kyle asked.

"I suppose," Jace said after a few moments of deep thought. "Why? Do you have something in mind?"

"Maybe," Kyle replied as he turned to look at Myri. "How would you like to be a smuggler's lieutenant?"

"I'm Corellian by birth," Myri answered with an infectious smile. "Smuggling is part of our DNA."

"Good," Kyle said, then turned to Jace. "If we can't get any official support from the Givin government, and you can't risk any blowback to Thyferra and the bacta trade, then we'll just have to get creative."

"How do you mean," Jace asked, sitting back while placing his hand thoughtfully on his chin.

"You said that the Hawkbat's Envy was suspected of smuggling activities, right," Kyle asked with a sly grin. "As tight lipped as smugglers are, they're not going to raise much of a fuss with the authorities if another smuggler gains access to their ship. It'd be bad for their business reputation."

"Ah," Jace said, "an excellent idea. If you also somehow get caught, none of it could fall back on us or the Givin."

"We'd need access to a small freighter," Myri said. "I can contact my superiors and get us something appropriate to the task. The Galactic Alliance is always impounding ships captured from pirates. It'll be a day or so before it could arrive, though."

"Not a problem," Kyle replied, smiling. "It gives us the time I'll need to get in contact with someone who'd rather remain anonymous and get their assistance."

"I'm pretty sure I know who you're talking about," Myri said, wearing a smirk of her own. "They definitely wouldn't appreciate us broadcasting any involvement on their part."

"Then I guess all that's left is my part," Jace said.

Pressing a button on his desk, the doors to his office opened again. Cathy was already standing there, summoned by Jace through some hidden means. As she crossed the portal between the outer and inner office, Kyle heard the slight whining of her knee joint servos. It was oddly comforting to him, until he realized it reminded him of his years at the Jedi Academy. Grand Master Skywalker had been fond of the 3PO protocol droid model, and had staffed the Academy with them.

"Shall I clear your desk, Master Jace," Cathy asked with her perpetually pleasant voice, "or should I bring some refreshments?"

"Yes, thank you, Cathy," Jace replied, "but first, we have something important to discuss."

"As you wish, sir," Cathy said, patiently waiting.

"Jedi Knight Kyle Raeger and Mistress Myri will be embarking on a mission for me," Jace said, steepling his fingers. "Jedi Raeger has asked for you to join them. How do you feel about that?"

"I would be most pleased," Cathy answered, then turn to face Kyle. "How can I be of service, Jedi Raeger?"

"Myri and I," Kyle replied, "along with my astromech, Switch, will be impersonating a pair of struggling, small time smugglers. I can't seem to have access to lots of resources, so I'd like you to act as my portable inventory and commodities computer."

"I perform similar activities for Master Jace on a daily basis," Cathy replied. "I should be able to do that with little difficulty."

"The next part might be harder," Kyle said, pursing his lips. "I might end up needing you to go in, by yourself, to infiltrate an area and report back to me what you see."

Cathy cocked her head to the side, as the lights in her eyes rapidly cycled. After over a minute of silence, Kyle was worried he had caused a cascade fault in her personality programming. He turned to Myri, who had a similar look of concern on her face. Just as he was about to raise his concern with Jace, he was surprised when he felt amusement through the Force.

"It's okay, Cathy," Jace said, with a smile on his face. "They can be trusted."

"Thank you, Master Jace," Cathy said, as she cleared the desk and left the room.

"Given both the figurative and sometimes literal cutthroat nature of the bacta trade," Jace said after Cathy left the room, "I had Cathy programmed with a passive form of the same programming once used by Imperial probe droids."

"Understandable," Myri said. "My parents often talked about their escapades during the post-Endor days of the conflict with the Empire. My mother, and especially my father, loved to talk about the Bacta War. The information war between Booster and Fliry Vorru formed the foundation of my intelligence training when I was younger."

"Part of the programming is a security routine," Jace continued. "If anyone other than the primary owner of the droid, or beings they've designated as trustworthy, make any inquiries related in any way to the infiltration features, the droid's main motivator unit is internally powered down, awaiting permission or confirmation from an authorized being."

"I would hope that particular feature doesn't activate while engaged in active infiltrations," Myri asked, sarcastically. "Otherwise, what would be the point?"

"Obviously," Jace replied. "The program, when not in use, only activates if the topic of infiltration is brought up. When in active use, the program overrides the primary personality, while still maintaining the same voiceprint. It was designed for me by a former member of one of your father's squadrons, whose name I've been sworn to secrecy."

"It looks like we've got a plan," Kyle said, leaning back and smiling. "Now all we have to do is account for the same thing that makes all seeming successes turn into failures: first contact with the enemy."


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Tell me again why we're doing this," Jag said politely from his reclined position on the bed in their quarters.

"Mandalorian Force Sensitives are extremely rare," Jaina replied. "In all of recorded galactic history, only one Mandalorian actually became a Jedi. The skills he brought into the Order, over a thousand years ago, are still part of the youngling training regimen."

Approximately six hours had passed since Boba Fett had gotten back in touch with Jaina. He had reluctantly agreed to allow her to meet the two younglings, who she now knew were named Nym and Alessa. Jaina had been ready to hop into their freighter and set course for Mandalorian space as soon as she got the message. Jag, though, had been more hesitant.

"I can appreciate the military history lesson as well as the next soldier," Jag replied with his dry sense of humor, "but, you still haven't answered my question."

"It has to do with what Mandalore as a whole represents," Jaina said, sighing. "Approximately four thousand years ago, the Mandalorians rose up out of the Outer Rim, and nearly conquered the entire galaxy. It was only through the efforts of Revan, the Prodigal Knight, that they were defeated. However, even though Revan was eventually redeemed, his exposure and conflict with them drove him deep into the Dark Side of the Force."

"So what both you and Boba Fett are worried about," Jag said pensively, "is what will happen if more Force Sensitives start appearing among the Mandalorian Clans."

"Exactly," Jaina replied. "Gotab hid his Jedi history to first avoid conflict with the people around him, and then later, to maintain the connections he had built. Kad'ika hid his Force Sensitivity for the same reasons, but also to avoid anyone using him as a template for a new clone army."

"Could these two Mandalorian younglings really be that dangerous," Jag asked as plainly as possible.

"Yes," Jaina answered. "Even though Uncle Luke loosened the Jedi traditions on attachment, we're still taught to avoid indulging in them. Dark Side users, on the other hand, draw their strength through their attachments; usually power and status. The desire to maintain them above all else consumes them from the inside."

"I take it Mandalorians somehow don't fit into that dynamic," Jag again asked.

"No, they don't," Jaina said, shaking her head. "While the Death Watch was a brutal group of hardened killers, most Mandalorians are actually good-natured, hard-working beings. Goran Beviin and Medrit Vasur are both fierce warriors, but you wouldn't know it from their home life."

"Come to think of it," Jag said, "you mentioned how nervous you were at first about even the children carrying blasters when you arrived to find Fett."

"I imagine it felt something like when Uncle Luke went into Jabba's Palace, all those years ago," Jaina replied. "However, after meeting their adopted daughter Dinua, and their grandchildren, Shalk and Briila, all my expectations were shattered."

"How so," Jag asked with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"My entire concept of Mandalorians as a whole had been formed through the conflicts between my father and Boba Fett," Jaina said. "While Fett is the Mandalore, the nominal leader of his nation, I found out that he's somewhat of an outsider, even among his own people."

"Given what we know of his childhood and early life," Jag said, "that doesn't surprise me. Watching Mace Windu, one of the most venerated Jedi Masters of all time, behead his father in front of him when he was a youngling definitely affected his entire outlook on life."

"While Fett admitted that he didn't personally care whether it was me or Darth Caedus who died," Jaina said, "I got the distinct impression from Goran and Dinua that both of them were helping to train me with the hope that her children wouldn't get dragged into someone else's war."

"My father greatly mourned the loss of my brothers," Jag said, his normally stoic face becoming very somber. "He was grateful that the Chiss culture allowed him to do it."

"Mandalorians have relatively simple mourning methods, from what I've seen," Jaina said. "They find whatever caused them to mourn and then either shoot it or blow it up."

"Practical," Jag said with his usual dry humor.

"Mandalorians learn a fighting technique that's completely anathema to Jedi," Jaina continued. "It doesn't translate well from Mando'a, but the closest Basic equivalent would be No Prisoners."

"That's the one you used against your brother, correct," Jag asked.

"Yes," Jaina replied. "The first time Goran used it against me, his Force presence almost turned into a void. I could still feel him as a living being, but he had no emotional awareness I could sense."

"That must have been very unnerving," Jag said, "especially for a Jedi."

"Goran described it to me as a complete lack of emotion," Jaina said, shaking her head like she was reliving the experience. "He was able to turn it on and off at will. An animal-like instinct for survival to kill or destroy whatever was in his path."

"I'm beginning to understand the source of your concern," Jag said, gently pulling on his goatee. "What happens if a Force user learns that technique, and then, either by choice or through overuse, turns it on and then never turns it back off?"

"Exactly," Jaina replied with a darkened expression.

Jag sat back in his chair. Jaina's concern was completely valid. Kad'ika, the Force Sensitive Mandalorian, had been raised by Gotab, the refugee Jedi. He had honored the memory of Kad'ika's mother by raising him as a Mandalorian, but also by keeping him within the light side of the Force, thus preventing him from being turned into the engine of destruction that the Grand Army of the Republic had become in the early days of the Empire. His decision made, Jag stood up and walked into the bedroom.

"What are you doing," Jaina asked, the confusion clear in her voice.

"Packing," Jag answered from the other room. "It's time to go."

Jaina looked around as their ship reverted to real space just outside the orbit of the planet Fett had given her the coordinates to. After the Imperial Remnant had seeded Mandalore with the nano killer virus, the planet had no longer been safe for him and his granddaughter. Whether or not it would affect the descendants of the Clone Troopers who had fled there remained uncertain. Some chose to stay, while others, such as the clan that the Jedi Padawan Scout had joined, had decided to relocate. Jaina smiled as she saw a Bes'uliik snubfighter rising to inspect them.

"Independent Freighter," the pilot said over the comm, "identify yourself and state your business."

"This is Jedi Master Jaina Solo," Jaina stated. "With me is my husband Jagged Fel. We're here at the invitation of the Mandalore, Boba Fett."

"Yeah," the pilot replied. "I remember Fett saying something about an aruetii Jedi and her husband possibly showing up. You're cleared to land."

"Thanks," Jaina said, and then shut off the comm.

"Beautiful craft," Jag remarked from his co-pilot station.

"You know it," Jaina said. "One of the things I was hoping to do after we got here was flying one of them again."

"I'd like to fly one myself," Jag said. "I want to evaluate how they handle, after having flown the best starfighters produced by both the Galactic Alliance and the Chiss Ascendancy."

Jaina smiled while successfully stifling a giggle. Even when admitting to his desire to indulge in his boyish ways, Jag still couched it in proper military terms. It was one of the more endearing traits that had drawn her to him. Jaina also knew that she would need him and his formidable will to get through her next challenge: the evaluation and possible training of two young and very powerful Force Sensitive Mandalorian younglings.

Unlike their previous landing on Corellia, they didn't have to use cover ID's. Being aruetii, the Mando'a word for foreigner or Non-Mandalorian, any use of a false identity was pointless. They had two things going in their favor, though. Jaina was still held in some respect for her time training under Boba Fett, and later in her military exploits on the Verpines' Roche Asteroid. She had also convinced Jag to bring his Mandalorian armor kit he had used during Abeloth's escape from the Maw and the paranoid Jedi incidents.

"I recommend wearing the gauntlets and the chest plate," Jaina said as they walked down the ramp, "but don't wear the helmet. People who pretend to be Mandalorians by donning the armor and use it as a means to intimidate others is pretty offensive to them. They call them hut'uuns, or cowards."

"It seems you picked up a bit more than just fighting techniques during your last stay," Jag said with his usual dry humor. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yes," Jaina replied with a mischievous grin. "Mandalorians are surprisingly good singers."

"You're kidding," Jag said, unsure if his wife was attempting to make a joke.

"Not at all," Jaina continued. "After my first few nights, it actually made for a soothing experience. There was one who had a pleasant tenor voice. I was able to listen to him directly, one time."

"Maybe you'll run into him, then," Jag said, while assessing his surroundings.

"I doubt it," Jaina said, a shadow falling across her face. "He was killed during the failed attempt to capture my brother on the Roche Asteroid."

"At least he died bravely in combat," Jag replied.

"Yeah," Jaina said. "That's how he would have wanted it."

During their conversation, they had managed to cross the distance from the landing field to the local communal area. Jaina saw a building that reminded her of the Oya'but, the inn near the home of Goran where she had stayed during her time on Mandalore. She decided that walking right in like she owned the place seemed the appropriate thing to do, much to the subdued shock of her husband, and the mix of emotions coming off of the other beings present. She sensed anger, disgust, amusement, and even a few pockets of admiration.

"What do you have available," Jaina asked the bartender after she and Jag sat down.

"For uninvited aruetii," the bartender said with a scowl, "not much."

"How do you know we're uninvited," Jaina asked with a smirk.

"All I see," the bartender replied, his patience wearing thin, "is an aruetii Jedi and a hut'uun who couldn't even bother to get his kit properly assembled."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Jag said with stiff military formality, "but what is wrong with my kit, as you call it."

"Where's your buy'ce, boy," the bartender asked, then translating the question into Basic, "where's your helmet?"

"Ah, I see," Jag replied. "I came about my gauntlets and breast plate as payment for performing a series of odd jobs. I had hoped to get a custom fitted helmet to go along with them."

"Damned aruetii tourists," the bartender muttered as he put two cups on the bar and filled them with water. "Well, if you're able to find someone willing to do the work for you, that's your business."

"Thanks," Jaina said as she started sipping at the water. "So, how long do you think it will take?"

"Between the starfighter pilot," Jag replied, "the people here at the inn, and the bartender we obviously angered, if it takes any longer than thirty minutes, I might actually be offended."

Approximately ten minutes later, a Mandalorian wearing armor a riot of different colors entered the inn. Without saying a word to anyone, he sat at the table closest to the entrance and crossed his arms, waiting. The bartender, after refilling some drinks, walked a little too casually over to the table the new arrival was sitting at. He seemed to make a big show of taking an order, then quickly scampered back to the bar. Leaving a few credits on the table, the Mandalorian beat an easy but deliberate path straight to where Jaina and Jag were sitting.

"Alright, Jedi," the Mandalorian said, "time to go."

"Where exactly are we going," Jaina asked as she turned to face him.

"Fett wants to see you," the Mandalorian replied. "I have a speeder waiting outside. Let's go."

"Well," Jaina said with a smirk, "since you asked so nicely."

Jaina was pleased to see so much farmland being tended from her seat in the speeder. Having grown up surrounded by Noghri, she was used to seeing what industrious beings could do, but the Mandalorians reminded her that anyone with sufficient focus and resolve could accomplish just about anything. Jag, on the other hand, seemed to be focusing on the more militaristic aspects, such as how the farm houses doubled as fortifications in case of an attack. The sights and sounds and smells pulled up many pleasant memories for Jaina, but it also helped temper her resolve for the tasks ahead.

"How much farther is it," Jaina asked the Mandalorian who had finally introduced himself as Liam. "Are we going to get there before nightfall?"

"About another five to ten minutes," Liam replied. "We have to go a little slow through here. The subsonic vibrations produced by a speeder going full out severely agitates nerfs and other livestock, so we maintain a lower velocity around the farms."

"Makes sense, I guess," Jaina replied diffidently.

Having been raised primarily on Coruscant, Jaina realized that she had had an extremely urban upbringing. Even her time at the Jedi Praxeum, as secluded as it had been, hadn't exposed her to much of an agrarian society. She took a deep breath, and felt the flow of the Force all around her. It was like a sweet symphony of sights and sounds, all woven together with a gentle harmony that most of the technologically advanced portions of the galaxy had long since lost.

"Enjoying the scenery," Liam asked without turning his head.

"Yes, thank you," Jaina said, smirking with the realization that Liam probably had his 360 degree viewing mode turned on for his helmet. "My mother often told me about visiting the farms and other more rural areas of Alderaan when she was a child."

"Believe it or not," Liam said, turning his head slightly towards his passengers, but Princess Leia Organa is something of a role model among our female warriors."

"How so," Jag asked curiously.

"She took an active role in leadership while she was little more than a youngling," Liam replied. "On top of that, she's proven herself as a competent warrior. She would have made a great Mandalore."

"I'll be sure to mention that the next time I see her," Jaina replied. "Mom always seemed to take Fett's issues regarding my father with a detached sense of amusement."

"Sounds like a proper Mandalore to me," Jag observed from his seat.

"Hush, you," Jaina said, smiling.

The remainder of the ride continued in bemused silence as Liam crested a nearby hill and then guided the speeder into the valley below it. Jaina heard the distant sound of a metal smithery, and smiled as she once again recalled pleasant memories from her time staying at Goran Beviin's farmhouse. Jag, sitting next to her, felt some of the tension easing out of his wife, and placed his hand on hers, reassuring her. Jaina responded by easing into her husband's side.

"I take it we're nearly there," Jag asked, hearing the pitch of the repulsorlift engine easing off.

"Pretty much," Liam said.

"Anything important we should know," Jaina asked. "I'd prefer not to get things off to a rough start."

"Yeah," Liam said, once against not moving his helmet while replying. "Their parents agreed to let you meet them, because that's what the Mandalore asked them to do. But, you're still going to have to earn their respect."

"Never thought it was going to be that easy, anyway," Jaina sighed as she eased herself out of speeder and started walking toward the farmhouse.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Kyle looked out the viewport as the freighter emerged from hyperspace. Myri, who was acting as navigator, started the process of aligning them with Yag'Dhul Station's rotational axis. Cathy, who was seated at the communications station, was handling the arrangements for a berth to dock with. Both Kyle and Myri had agreed that her droid programming would better relate to the Givin's mathematical approach to conversation. Switch, for his part, was connected to the astromech port, subtlety making his way through the station's computer database to identify the location of their target.

The five day wait for the freighter and the two day hyperspace jump to Yag'Dhul had left them with just forty-eight hours before the Hawkbat's Envy was scheduled to leave on the next leg of their course. While the Givin's unofficial assistance and bureaucratic red tape could theoretically extend their time frame by an additional twenty-four hours, Kyle had decided not to rely on it. Completing her task, Cathy shut down the communications channel and left her seat, moving to her next task before the freighter completed the docking procedure. As she walked past into the main hold of the ship, Switch indicated his success with a pleasant trill.

"Good to hear, buddy," Kyle said over his shoulder. "Pull it up on my monitor, please."

"So what are we looking at," Myri asked as she locked in the freighter's autopilot. "I hope it's good news."

"Mostly, yes," Kyle replied, scrolling through the data Switch had displayed. "It looks like with the exception of the Chief Engineer and one or two porter droids, the entire ship's crew is currently taking shore leave on the station. They've also run up a pretty big tab at one of the tapcafes."

"Based on the amount," Myri said, looking over Kyle's shoulder, "I'd say there's as pretty good chance most of them will barely be able to stand, much less recognize a random droid or two among them."

"Agreed," Kyle replied. "It looks like we're going with Plan C, then."

Plan C, put forth by Myri, while having the highest acceptable level of risk, also had the highest projected success rate. Myri and Cathy would access the tapcafe and, while impersonating the staff, interrogate the ship's crew during their drunken stupor. Meanwhile, Kyle and Switch would attempt to surreptitiously access their ship. Kyle had initially suggested that Myri be the one to get aboard the ship with Switch, owing to her extensive training and field experience with GA Intelligence. However, Myri had shot him down instantly, using his own logic against him.

"It's not Switch's skills I doubt," Myri said with a puckish grin, "it's yours. Do you know the first thing about working in a tapcafe, much less have any experience waitstaffing?"

"Uh, not really," Kyle admitted sheepishly.

"The crew of the Hawkbat's Envy might be too drunk to tell the difference," Myri continued, "but the rest of the customers would probably notice right away. Also, no matter how good Switch is at slicing records, there's no way a tapcafe owner is going to ignore an employee who can't do their job."

"Granted," Kyle replied. "But, that brings us back to the same question. How are you going to pull off being an employee of the tapcafe?"

"Because I've done it before," Myri said.

"Um, what," Kyle said. "What are you talking about?"

"My first job out of school was at a tapcafe," Myri replied. "Both my sister and I had to get jobs to help pay for our university education. Syal got a job working at Donoslane, a private shuttle company, as a mechanic. My father arranged it. He said it was owned by a former squadron member of his, along with his wife. I got the impression there was more to it than that, but my mother quietly discouraged me from digging deeper."

"Okay," Kyle said flatly, "but that still doesn't explain why and how you worked at a tapcafe."

"Coming to that," Myri said with a mischievous smile. "Syal worked at a shuttle company, because it helped her prepare for flight school prior to applying to the GA Naval and Starfighter Academy. I worked at a tapcafe, because it helped me practice my skills prior to being accepted to GA Intelligence."

"How so," Kyle asked, now genuinely curious.

"Once a day," Myri said, "for approximately one hour, my mother would come in to the tapcafe. She would arrive at random times during my shift, and occasionally in disguise."

"To do what," Kyle asked.

"To test me," Myri replied. "I had to learn everything I could about the customers who came in; their names, their employers, what they did for a living, and so on. At the end of the day, my mother would test me. If I was able to answer all of her questions for the entire week, she would add an extra one hundred credits to my university funding."

"How often did you manage to do it," Kyle asked again.

"More often than not," Myri said, smiling.

"Well," Kyle said while slapping his palms on his legs before standing up, "sounds like we got a plan."

Krayt looked around the tapcafe for the fifth time from his chair near the back. He shifted his shoulders to loosen them, while counting the number of customers, yet again. His shipmates, as usual, were nearly too drunk to stand. Krayt quietly seethed with anger, but otherwise remained seated.

After the death of his Master, Darth Naito, Krayt had been stripped of his Darth title by the Master of their conclave, Darth Noctis. Noctis had mocked him for what had seemed like hours upon his return. When he had asked about getting treatment for his injuries, Noctis had simply sneered at him, and ordered his guards to remove Krayt from his sight due to his failure. When Krayt had arrived in the medbay, the medical droids informed him he was to be fitted with the lowest acceptable model of cybernetic replacement for his hand.

Even now, months later, the hand would randomly spasm, causing him to drop whatever he had been holding. To make matters worse, the wretched Jedi who had injured him had also cut off his dominant hand. While he was technically ambidextrous, Krayt had slacked on his training, believing his experience and new found powers in the Force had made such day-to-day requirements irrelevant. Now, in order to even accomplish everyday tasks, he had been forced to relearn almost everything, even using food utensils.

Krayt winced slightly as the doors to the tapcafe opened. Due to the near perpetual drunkenness of the clientele, the owner kept the lights turned as low as possible without bathing the establishment in near total twilight. Blinking his eyes a few times, Krayt saw a protocol droid and a petite woman wearing an approximation of what the owner laughingly called a uniform. While the protocol droid immediately started the undesirable task of wiping down table surfaces covered with layers of gunk, the petite woman started making her way around the tapcafe, offering refills and taking orders. Finally, she made her way over to him.

"Good evening, sir," she said with a perky smile. "My name is Jahnaya, and I'll be temporarily filling in here tonight. Can I get you anything?"

"Yes," Krayt replied, staring at her lecherously. "How about some caf to help my shipmates and I start sobering up?"

"Certainly, sir," Jahnaya answered. "Would you like some creamer and sweetener as well?"

"Why not," Krayt said, suppressing a belch. "Anything to wash the taste of that stew out of my mouth."

"Should I ring up your tab while I fix your caf," Jahnaya asked politely.

"Probably a good idea," Krayt replied. "It's listed under the Hawkbat's Envy. We're scheduled to ship out of here by this time tomorrow."

"Very good, sir," Jahnaya said as she nimbly turned around and headed for the kitchen area, then rotated her head over her shoulder. "It'll be about five minutes. Is that okay?"

"Sure," Krayt said, eyeing her as she walked away.

Krayt smiled as he imagined practicing his Force Persuasion skills on her. As one of the top assassins on Nar Shaddaa, the Hutts had fettered him with all kinds of gifts. His favorite had been a slave girl dancer given to him after tracking down a mark that had escaped several other bounty hunters and assassins for over two years. Sadly, she had whiled away what free time she was given in gambling and spice consumption, to the point where she racked up an enormous debt.

As her owner, Krayt had been given the offer to pay off her debt, or to transfer ownership to her debtor. Finding no further use for her, Krayt sent the slave girl off to her new owner, who ran a brothel targeted towards more aggressive clients. Her body had been discovered less than a week later, dumped off by a Trandoshan bouncer. Upon hearing of her death, Krayt had wondered for a few moments why the news barely affected him, but the feeling had passed as quickly as it came.

"Here's your caf, sir," Jahnaya said as she set down the cup and saucer with the hidden grace of an athlete. "I also have your tab for you when you're ready."

"Please, sit down next to me," Krayt said, subtly waving his hand in the motion his former Master had taught him when trying to use the Force Persuasion skill. "Your feet must be tired."

"My feet are tired," Jahnaya said, before sitting down. "I should sit for a while."

"Thank you," Krayt replied smiling, while continuing the hand gesture. "Good company is so hard to come by."

"I can be good company," Jahnaya said dreamily.

Krayt looked into Jahnaya's eyes like he'd been taught to seal the control, and thought he saw the faintest glimmer, like a predator successfully cornering its prey, but the moment passed.

"You said you were here filling in for the night," Krayt said, starting in slowly. "Why is that?"

"I really want to be a holoactress," Jahnaya replied. "Or maybe a model. A friend of mine offered me her shift tonight. She said it would help with my confidence and poise."

"Well now," Krayt continued, "I'd say you've already got the poise part down. As for the confidence, you seem to be getting the hang of it."

"Thank you," Jahnaya said, blushing. "I really should be going, though."

Krayt narrowed his eyes slightly in anger, but kept it from showing on the rest of his face. He was still learning how to fully use the Force Persuasion skill, but this girl seemed to be as pliable as a Mon Calamari Eelfish. She shouldn't have been able to resist him, much less have any will of her own at this point. Krayt tried to calm himself, then reached deeper into the Dark Side of the Force.

"You don't need to go," Krayt said, subtly moving his hand again. "The owner owes me a favor. In fact, I don't even need to pay the bar tab."

"You don't need to pay your tab," Jahnaya said, erasing the bar tab from her datapad. "I can stay here."

"In fact," Krayt continued, "why don't you join us on our cargo run? You could benefit from seeing more of the galaxy."

"It'll do me good to travel with you," Jahnaya said dreamily again, then seemed to reconsider. "What about my droid?"

"You don't need her," Krayt said. "You'll be fine by yourself."

"But I need her," Jahnaya said softly. "I programmed her to record me so I can improve for my audition next month."

Krayt grimaced slightly, realizing he had pushed as far as he could without either losing control or breaking her mind. She would be no use to him unless she retained some will of her own. His Master had warned him about what happened with a rival of hers that had pushed too hard with the Force Persuasion skill. The slave had gone catatonic, to the point where he couldn't even feed himself anymore. Darth Noctis had ordered the slave disposed of upon learning about it.

"I guess that should be okay," Krayt said gently. "We wouldn't want you to fail the audition."

"She can come with us," Jahnaya said, visibly relaxing.

"Meet me at Airlock Gamma at this time tomorrow," Krayt said, trying to implant the command as deeply into her subconscious as possible.

"I'll be at Airlock Gamma tomorrow," Jahnaya said with a glassy look in her eyes.

"You can go back to your job now," Krayt said, finishing his caf and then standing up. "Don't be late."

Myri kept up her act until the man who had tried to use the Force to control her had left the tapcafe. She resisted the urge to smile at how easy it had been. Myri was glad she had instructed Cindy to record every conversation that took place while they were there. Kyle might possibly recognize him by his voice or vocal mannerisms.

"Jahnaya to Jeice," Myri said into her comlink after activating and raising it up to her face, "I nailed the audition."

"Acknowledged, Jahnaya," Kyle said into his comlink after receiving the message. "See you when you get home."

Switch had assured Kyle and Myri that their comlink channel would be next to impossible to slice during the amount of time they were aboard Yag'Dhul Station, but Myri had insisted that they speak in code the entire time. Kyle had agreed, despite Switch inheriting his comm scrambling techniques from Whistler. While Myri had been impersonating a tapcafe employee, Kyle had been using the residual connections of his false identity. Talon Karrde was still remembered fondly by the residents of Yag'Dhul Station, and the Givin had calculated maintaining a good relationship with him as a net positive.

"The last I heard," the Duros Smuggler Kyle was talking with said, "Dunkirk dropped you like illegal cargo after what went down on Juuntall."

"He kind of had to," Kyle said, shrugging. "Fortunately, Karrde found my services valuable enough to hire me on as an independent contractor."

"I know all about Karrde's independent contractor roles," the Duros said with disgust. "You take all the risk, and he takes thirty percent."

"I got twenty-five percent," Kyle said while theatrically trying to hide a smile behind his mug.

"What," the Duros replied, surprised. "How'd you manage that?"

"Karrde admitted to me privately," Kyle said softly with a smile, "that after working with me, he had intended to poach me from Dunkirk, anyway. He felt the extra five percent was worth all the trouble I got him out of."

"What exactly happened on Juuntall," the Duros asked. "I've heard all kinds of rumors, but no first hand accounts yet."

"They tried to push substandard merchandise on us," Kyle said after draining the rest of his mug's contents. "Karrde refused to accept it at any price. Said he had a reputation to maintain. One of their people got antsy and pulled a blaster. You can imagine what happened next."

"A Kowokian Monkey Lizard could have figured that one out," the Duros said. "The real puzzle is what Karrde got out of the deal."

"You mean besides me, of course," Kyle said, signaling the droid waiter to come refill his drink. "Don't worry, I'm not insulted."

"Yes, of course. Sorry," the Duros replied. "Anyone who's done business with Karrde knows that even when the deal falls through, he still makes sure he gets something out of it."

"Apparently," Kyle said smiling as the droid refilled his mug, "what he got was first pick of all their clients that weren't too violent or unsophisticated for his tastes."

"Karrde does consider himself as something of a dilettante," the Duros replied. "His sole redeeming factor is that he can be trusted to deal honestly as long the other side does."

"I had heard about how he wanted to deal with an unreliable employee back during the Bacta War conflict," Kyle said, grimacing. "While I can appreciate the practical matters of running a barely legitimate business, throwing someone out an airlock seems a bit extreme."

"You're referring to Melina Carniss," the Duros said. "She betrayed Wedge Antilles and his splinter group to Isard. Karrde made Booster pay through the nose to keep her on and string along Isard to set up the trap he used to finally liberate Thyferra."

"Whatever happened to her," Kyle asked casually.

"What do you think happened," the Duros replied, while wrinkling his lips and narrowing his blood red eyes. "Karrde arranged to have her taken care of."

"I didn't think Karrde had that in him," Kyle said with genuine surprise. "At least, I never got that impression from him."

"Make sure you remember that," the Duros said, pointing a cerulean blue finger at him. "Karrde is good to his employees, very good. But if you disrupt his business or harm his clients, I'd rather be locked in a small room with an angry Wookiee than face his wrath."

"Thanks for the warning," Kyle said, putting down his mug. "But, we seemed to have veered away from my original question. What kind of cargo is there to move on this place right now?"

"Like I told you earlier," the Duros replied, "I'm keeping my nose out of other people's business, as you humans like to say. Someone is trying to muscle in after what went down on Juuntall. A few smugglers took on their cargo. Got paid well, but that's all I know. I'm in a good enough position that I can sit things out for a while, wait for all the dust to settle."

"You go find the cargo," Kyle replied, "you can't wait for the cargo to find you. That's always been my motto."

"Meaning," the Duros asked.

"Do you still have the contact details for that cargo," Kyle asked as he threw back the rest of the contents of his mug.

"I might," the Duros replied. "What's it worth to you?"

Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out his datapad to access his undercover Jedi Order account.

"I'm sure we can come to an arrangement," Kyle said smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"I agreed to this because the Mandalore asked," a stern looking Mandalorian who had introduced himself as Thurr said, "but if I get even the slightest whiff that you're trying to push your arutesii sensibilities on my daughter, I'll put an end to it immediately."

Jaina grimaced slightly, but didn't otherwise try to suppress her emotions. Her time among Mandalorians had taught her that they valued and respected outright honesty. When she had first arrived to find Boba Fett, she had tried to be as polite and deferential as possible. Instead of putting them at ease, she had discovered it only irritated them further. She eased back into her chair and tried to assume a more relaxed posture at the table they were all seated at.

"When Boba Fett agreed to allow me to evaluate your daughter," Jaina said plainly, "it was with the understanding that he was the one setting the terms, not me. My only goal is to empower your daughter with the knowledge and skills she needs to control her abilities, and not for them to control her."

"Fine," Thurr replied curtly.

"I share your same concerns, Thurr," the woman who had greeted Jaina at the door said, finally speaking up. "But if the Mandalore saw fit to permit this, then the decision has been made."

"Easy for you to say, Anae," Thurr sniped back. "Your son will be turning thirteen next month. Your responsibility for raising him is almost at an end."

Jaina immediately felt the Force flood with a near murderous intent. Anae didn't even move, but her eyes said it all. Jaina casually wondered if a Nexu protecting her cubs would have projected as much malice as the petite woman sitting next to her did at that very moment. Resisting the urge to place her hand on her lightsaber, she continued to sit silently as the tension built.

"If you think for one moment that I don't care for my son's safety," Anae said far too quietly for Jaina's liking, "my husband will be accepting my apology for killing his brother."

Jag, who had remained at the periphery at the room, cleared his throat and shifted his shoulders. Jaina knew without even looking at him that he was waiting for a signal from her. Allowing a small grin on her face, she appreciated the confidence he granted her. Even when sitting between two hardened warriors, he stood back and let her try to resolve the situation on her own.

"When Boba Fett was training me," Jaina started saying softly, "I got the distinct impression that he ultimately didn't care whether it was me or my brother who died. Either way, he got his vengeance for the death of his daughter. But for Goran, it was different."

"Different, how," Jag asked, catching on to Jaina's lead.

"Goran taught me a lot more than just how to fight like a Mandalorian," Jaina continued. "He taught me about the Resol'nare, the Mandalorians' Code of Ethics. I was frankly surprised at how similar it was to Jedi philosophies in some ways."

"That's not really surprising," Thurr said. "Both Jedi and Mandalorians are essentially warriors at heart."

"Your mother must have found something during her time among the Clone Army that resonated with her," Jaina replied to Thurr. "Something that made her feel like she could settle down and raise a family."

"Clan Skirata was glad to have her," Thurr said, smiling.

"I'd like to think," Jaina said, starting in slowly again, "that the same parts of the Resol'nare that spoke to me also speak to her: Protecting your family with your life, and honoring your clan while ensuring its prosperity."

Jaina looked back and forth between the two of them. Thurr seemed mildly irritated, which was at least an improvement over his earlier thinly veiled hostility. Anae, on the other hand, was smiling. Jaina could feel her genuine humor through the Force.

"Thank you," Anae said.

"For what," Jaina asked.

"My husband always talked about what it was like growing up with a Jedi parent," Anae replied. "I can see now that the traits he admired so much in her haven't been lost."

"Thank you, too," Jaina said. "I have to admit that after what happened with my grandfather and my brother, I was worried about having children."

"If you're even half the Jedi Scout was," Anae said, "you've got nothing to worry about."

"Thanks," Jaina said with a genuine smile.

"I suppose my strict military upbringing was never considered," Jag asked.

"As a matter of fact," Jaina replied with an impish grin, "I had planned on letting you take care of the discipline while I spoiled them as much as possible."

"What part of your Jedi philosophy did you get that from," Jag asked again, curiously.

"None," Jaina admitted. "I just figured that since I would probably be home less often than you, I might as well take advantage of it."

"Is this what it was like growing up for you," Anae asked Thurr.

"Not even close," Thurr said, shaking his head. "My mother never would have tolerated my father displaying this level of sloppiness."

"You know, I don't think I will, either," Jaina said, smiling. "It's important for a Jedi Master to set the proper example, after all."

"Okay, you've made your point," Thurr said, standing up. "I guess I'll go get Alessa so you can get started."

"Tomorrow will be fine, actually," Jag said, stretching his arms after leaning against the wall for some time. "Jaina and I still need to arrange our lodging. The racks on our freighter are sufficient by military standards, but I for one had hoped to explore the culture that has made such an impact on my wife."

"Liam mentioned something about you needing a proper helmet," Anae said. "I'd be glad to talk it over with you."

"That was more of a front than anything," Jag replied. "I already have a helmet, for the most part."

"Let me guess," Anae said with a smile, "the helmet you have now is a knock-off."

"Something like that," Jag said, shrugging.

"I could make one for you," Anae said, casually leaning back in her chair. "Seeing as how your wife is doing her best to honor the Resol'nare."

"I'd take her up on that offer," Thurr chimed in. "Anae is one of the best armor smiths in the sector."

"Then the only proper thing for me to do is to accept," Jag said with strict military formality. "Perhaps we can get started when Jaina looks over your son?"

"Agreed," Anae replied.

"Then we shall be taking our leave," Jag said. "Until tomorrow."

"Yeah, about that," Thurr said smiling. "Liam took off about five minutes after you arrived. Unless you have another means of transport, I'd say you're stuck here for now."

"Then if it's not an imposition," Jaina said, "we might as well bunk here for the night. As long as that's alright with you, Anae."

"Sure," Anae replied. "We've got a spare bed at the moment, if you don't mind the smell of livestock."

"Not at all," Jaina said. "In fact, I had been mulling over how urban both our upbringings were. A Jedi Master should always be ready to explore a new perspective."

"I'll be sure to remind you about that when I wake you up in the morning," Anae said, her amusement plastered on her face.

"Oh," Jag said, "and why is that?"

"Because you'll be the one milking the nerfs come sunrise," Anae said. "This way to the guest quarters."

True to her word, Anae came to wake them shortly before sunrise. She had told them she would be back in approximately thirty minutes to assign them their chores. Jag, being the quicker of the two to get up in the morning, performed his usual morning calisthenics routine. He had tried to keep it up during his recovery, much to the displeasure of the medical staff. The first time the nurses had discovered him doing it, they had threatened to strap him to his gurney.

Jaina, for her part, started her day with a quick round of meditation, followed by a series of lightsaber drills. Practicing with one of the four training sabers she had brought with her, Jaina worked up as much of a sweat, if not more, than her husband. Jag also once again went first with the refresher. While the amenities weren't as nice as their apartment on Coruscant, both of them had used the type of portable refresher common among the military. Anae arrived right as Jaina had finished drying off and dressing.

"Ready, I see," Anae said, displaying a gentle humor that was the complete antithesis of what Mandalorians were known for. "Jaina, you'll be helping Nym with the livestock. I didn't think you'd want to move right into combat training first thing in the morning. Jag, you'll be helping my husband Nuuld make a supply and delivery run."

"I didn't see anything resembling a marketplace or even a general store on our flight in," Jag said, furrowing his brow. "Are we making a trip off world?"

Anae laughed and slapped Jag on the shoulder, while Jaina merely smiled.

"You weren't kidding when you said you know nothing about our culture, were you," Anae replied. "On worlds like this, the inn you arrived at is the heart of our economy."

"Makes sense to me," Jaina said, smiling. "If you have to conduct business, might as well do it with a mug in your hand."

"After managing all those meetings with Imperials Moffs and their hidden agendas," Jag said, "it might be refreshing to see an open and honest discussion for once."

"I'll let my husband know you're ready," Anae said as she left the room.

"Anything I should know," Jag asked, gathering his gear. "I'd rather not make a fool of myself."

"Be open about your intentions," Jaina replied. "Also, if you're offered an ale, you can take it without worrying about it too much. Mandalorians prefer direct conflict, so poisoning is pretty rare. Just be careful not to get too drunk."

"Sounds simple so far," Jag said, zipping up his carry-all. "Anything else?"

"Keep in mind that some Mandalorians may still harbor resentment of the Empire," Jaina said. "A lot of families chose to leave Mandalore when the scope and lethality of the nano killer virus was made public."

"Hopefully my involvement in eradicating it will offset any anger that gets directed my way," Jag replied. "At least Fett knows about our involvement at Juuntall and what we were looking for. He should help cooler heads prevail."

Jag leaned over to give Jaina a hug and quick kiss on the cheek, then left the room. Jaina watched him leave, and felt a wave of melancholy wash over her. Less than a week after he left the medical facility, and they were already separated again. Jaina waited another five minutes before a young man who reminded her a little too much of her youngest brother Anakin came into the room.

"Su'cuy, Jetii," the young man said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," Jaina replied. "You must be Nym."

"My mom said you're helping me with my chores today," Nym said, nodding. "We should get to it before she comes back and finds us talking instead of feeding the animals."

"Then let's get to it," Jaina said smiling. "It will also give me a better chance to evaluate you, since the more subtle aspects of the Force are the harder ones to figure out."

"What can you tell me about the Force," Nym asked as they headed towards the stables. "My Babuir didn't talk about it much. She seemed to get a dark sadness around her anytime we brought it up."

"We," Jaina asked.

"My cousin, Alessa," Nym said. "After our parents realized that we had Babuir's abilities, they left us with her whenever they went out on a job. Otherwise, we got into too much mischief."

Jaina smiled, thinking about all the trouble she got into with Jacen when they were Nym's age. The five year's time that had passed since his death at her hands had allowed her to finally move past the grief and guilt that had tried to consume her. Jag knew about the nightmares that had plagued her at first. He had comforted her by telling her about the nightmares he had suffered after the deaths of his brothers. It had eased her fears that the Dark Side of the Force had been trying to claim her.

"The Force is a kind of energy field," Jaina said, paraphrasing the lessons she had been taught as a youngling. "That energy surrounds everything; you, me, your mother, those nerfs in the barn, and even the ground we're walking on."

"Okay," Nym said, sounding a little confused. "So why does that make me so much better at hand-to-hand sparring than my brothers?"

"The Force helps guide us," Jaina replied. "When we are focused, at peace, it gives us glimpses into the future."

"So all those times my brothers said I was cheating during training," Nym asked, "it was the Force that was telling me what was going to happen?"

"Yes, that's right," Jaina said. "The Force allows us to anticipate what's going to happen. But that's not all it can be used for. In fact, using the Force too much that way can leave you open to the Dark Side of the Force."

"Babuir told us about that," Nym said. "She used to say that the Jedi were wiped out because the Emperor clouded their senses so they couldn't see the real threat that the clone army represented."

"I never met any of the clone survivors of the Grand Army of the Republicthe" Jaina admitted. "But from what I've been told, a lot of them hated what the Emperor made them do. There were supposedly a few clone troopers who managed to resist their programming when Order 66 was issued, but almost all of them were wiped out when they disobeyed the order to execute their Jedi leaders."

"My Babuir married one of the clone troopers who refused to kill her," Nym said. "He was one of the deserters who founded homesteads on Mandalore after the fall of the Old Republic."

"She must have really trusted him," Jaina said. "I'm honestly not sure I could have done that, after having watched and felt so many fellow Jedi being killed."

"I thought Jedi were supposed to trust everyone," Nym said, sounding confused.

"We're supposed to have compassion for everyone," Jaina replied. "That could be interpreted as hoping for the best in everyone. Trust, though, is earned. I think we'll let that be your lesson for the day. You should have plenty of time to think about it while we finish these chores."

Jaina looked over towards Nym as he scrunched up his brow. Hopefully, she had gotten through to him one of the first lessons that everyone learned about Jedi; namely, that the flashy and exuberant battles they were known for wasn't their goal. As Master Yoda had taught Uncle Luke, wars do not make one great. Instead, it was how one acted during times of strife, good or ill, that made them great. She could only hope that Alessa was as easy to tutor as her cousin was. Her first successful lesson hopefully now behind her, Jaina turned back towards milking the nerf that stood, looking doe-eyed at her, before it turned back toward the feed it was idly munching on.


End file.
